


come again (i'll be waiting for you)

by yanjun (broduce)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, i miss zhangjun, story doesn't even have much to do with yzj as chef and lyj as critic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broduce/pseuds/yanjun
Summary: zhangjing, the chefyanjun, the food critic(their friends, the meddlesome kids)





	come again (i'll be waiting for you)

**Author's Note:**

> ok full disclosure the only thing i know about food critiquing is from ratatouille so don't expect much

Zhangjing puts the finishing touches on the dish, stepping back and smiling in satisfaction at the product.

"Zhengting!"

The door flies open and Zhengting whisks in with a twirl, one hand sliding an empty bowl into the sink while the other picks up the dish Zhangjing has just finished plating. It's all done in one fluid motion, and Zhangjing doesn't even have time to praise the efficiency before the door flaps closed, leaving Zhangjing to blink at the air.

Zhangjing closes his mouth and laughs, shaking his head.

"What's so funny, ge?"

Zhangjing turns around and sees his sous-chef peering at him curiously for a second before turning his attention back to the vegetables he was cutting up.

Zhangjing smiles fondly. "Nothing, Nongnong. Just thankful for all of the great help I have in the kitchen."

Just as Linong is about to reply, there's a loud crash from the side, and both Zhangjing's and Linong's gazes quickly shift.

"Cheng, this is all your fault!" A voice hisses, slicing through the sudden silence.

"My fault? What do you mean, my fault? Wang Linkai, if you hadn't—"

Zhangjing laughs loudly, startling both boys into whipping around with guilty expressions on their faces.

"Chef, it was—" They both start at the same time, stop, and glare at each other. "It was—"

"Still thankful for the great help?" Linong whispers to Zhangjing.

And Zhangjing can only laugh again and nod. Because he is. For Zhengting's efficiency, for Linong's attentiveness, for Chengcheng's and Linkai's liveliness. He's thankful for it all.

 

* * *

 

The night ends without a hitch, and Zhangjing lets out a relieved breath. They've been doing this for a long time, yet every day that doesn't culminate in disaster deserves a pat on the back.

As Zhangjing is putting dirty dishes into the sink for Chengcheng and Linkai to wash, Justin barrels into the room, his host uniform already half taken off.

"Justin, what did we say about keeping the uniform on until—"

Justin waves Zhengting off as he plants both hands onto the metal table, creating enough of a rumble to get every head to turn to him. 

"Guess who just made a reservation?" Justin asks, voice serious as his gaze sweeps across the room.

"Who?" Zhangjing asks, just to humor the kid.

"Lin Yanjun," Justin whispers, eyes expectant for some kind of reaction.

And there are. From Chengcheng, who nearly drops a sponge. From Linkai, who does drop a sponge. From Linong, who gasps dramatically. From Zhengting, who chokes on a piece of cake.

"Who?" Zhangjing repeats, a hand coming up to pat Zhengting's back, and this time he asks because he sincerely doesn't know.

Though he should, apparently, judging from the incredulous looks he's given by his crew as they whip around to stare at him.

"What?" He asks defensively, his hand halting mid-pat on Zhengting's back.

"You don't know who Lin Yanjun is?" Zhengting asks, twisting away from Zhangjing's touch to stare at him wide-eyed.

"No?" Zhangjing answers, uncertain. "Should I?"

"Probably, since he's the most renowned and feared food critic in the area," Chengcheng answers, bending down to pick up the sponge Linkai had dropped earlier.

"Huh. Interesting," Zhangjing says as he goes back to wiping the counter.

"That's it?" Justin asks, frowning.

Zhangjing shrugs. Why should he care about some hotshot snob who'll give him a bad review no matter how hard he tries?

"So what are you going to serve him?" Linong asks, peering at Zhangjing over the counter.

"I don't know. Just see what he orders off the menu, I guess."

"You're not gonna prep at all?" Linkai dodges a wet sponge from Chengcheng.

"I heard he's super mean. And super hot," Zhengting adds.

Zhangjing rolls his eyes. "Of course that's what you focus on, Ting."

"I'm just saying," Zhengting defends, hands coming up.

"No, I'm not gonna prep. He'll have to deal with whatever's on the menu. If he wants to give a bad review, then so be it. It's not like we're a Michelin ranked restaurant anyway," Zhangjing says firmly, picking up a cloth to wipe down the counters, indicating that the discussion was over.

 

* * *

 

"Chen Linong, why in the world are you so fidgety?" Zhangjing questions exasperatedly as the boy drops his fifth spoon of the night.

"Sorry, sorry," Linong immediately squeaks, bending down to pick the fallen utensil.

"Are you alright?" Zhangjing asks, genuinely concerned.

"Yes!" Linong asserts, before biting down on his lip.

"Nongnong..."

"It's Lin Yanjun," Linong confesses, almost whining.

"Lin Yanjun?" Zhangjing frowns. "Oh, you mean that food blogger?"

An audible gasp leaves Linong's mouth. "Food blogger?!"

Zhengting whizzes past, twirling as he drops an empty bowl into the sink. "He means influential and respected food critic."

"And super hot," Justin adds, stepping into the kitchen and barely ducking out of the way as Linkai throws a towel, aiming for Chengcheng, instead hitting a cart and nearly toppling a few plates if not for Zhangjing reaching out a hand to steady them without blinking an eye. "He's here."

There's a few seconds where the kitchen comes to a complete freeze.

"He—he's here?" Nongnong stutters, his eyes widening into saucers.

"He—he's hot?" Zhengting stutters back.

Justin rolls his eyes. "Yes, he's here and yes, he's hot. And he's asking for the chef."

All eyes in the kitchen swivel over to Zhangjing (even Zhengting's in the middle of smoothing his uniform and patting down his hair).

Zhangjing sighs and sets down his towel. "Alright then."

"Zhangjing, can I—"

"No, Zhengting," Zhangjing answers before Zhengting even has the chance to finish.

"Maybe Zhengting can charm the guy into giving us a 5 star rating," Linkai suggests, to a very enthusiastic nod from Zhengting and an exasperated eye roll from Zhangjing.

"Yeah and then maybe they'll date and Zhengting will be less of an uptight mom," Chengcheng adds, laughing as Zhengting bounds up to him with a fierce scowl.

Zhangjing grins. "I believe in our cooking skills." A pause. "Not that I don't believe in Zhengting's flirting skills though."

Zhengting sticks a tongue out at him as Linong giggles from the side.

Zhangjing takes a deep breath. "Okay, come on Justin. Let's go meet this guy."

 

* * *

 

The guy really is hot, Zhangjing begrudgingly admits.

He's barely out of the kitchen, Justin leading him ahead, when he spots the apparently acclaimed critic. It's hard not to, when almost all heads are turned toward him even though he has been seated in an isolated section.

Zhangjing pokes his head slightly to the side out of curiosity — Justin is annoyingly tall and blocks most of his view. There's something mesmerizing about Lin Yanjun's features, perhaps stemming from the unwavering gaze he fixes on the menu or maybe the confidence and grace he carries himself with.

"You're the chef?" is the first thing Lin Yanjun asks, perfect eyebrow raised slightly as he looks Zhangjing up and down.

Zhangjing bristles. He's used to people underestimating him because of his young age and small frame. "Yes."

Lin Yanjun simply nods, and there's a hint of approval that Zhangjing wonders if he's imagined. "Okay. Anything to recommend or any specials?"

"Everything on our menu is special," Zhangjing answers, plastering on the fakest customer smile he is able to muster.

Lin Yanjun looks at him, and this time, the glint of approval is evident. There's something else in his eyes, something that resembles a challenge. "Great. Surprise me, then."

Lin Yanjun snaps the menu closed and hands it back to Zhangjing with a smirk.

Zhangjing is stunned, but he receives the menu back with the same smile — he's never been one to back down from a direct challenge.

"You're going to trust me that much?" Zhangjing asks, slightly teasing, eyebrow raised.

"It's your restaurant's review that's on the line," Lin Yanjun answers, also teasing.

"It's your stomach that's on the line," Zhangjing retorts back, before spinning on his heel and walking away from possibly the most important customer of his life.

"I look forward to my meal, Chef!" Lin Yanjun hollers after him, and Zhangjing doesn't need to turn around to see the taunting smirk that he has, somehow, already memorized.

Zhangjing lets out a small smile of his own. _Oh it's on._

 

* * *

 

Linong stares at the finished product with his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes wide.

Justin stands on the other side of the table, also staring, but his expression is nonchalant — almost bored.

"Isn't this too...simple?" He finally asks, chin jutting toward the plate.

"Don't you have customers to greet?" Zhangjing asks back, frowning as he wipes his hands on his apron.

Justin waves the concern away. "Letting them wait makes it seem like we're busy and that business is good."

Linong snorts, but his eyes peek at Zhangjing, indicating his curiosity as well.

Zhangjing shrugs as he retrieves two more plates from a nearby table. "This salad is my specialty."

Justin makes a face, but doesn't say anything, his eyes zeroing in on the new dishes. "What are those?"

Before he can open his mouth to explain, Linong cuts in.

"It's ba wan!" The boy exclaims excitedly, and Zhangjing smiles. "And scallion pancake beef roll?"

Zhangjing nods, but seeing Justin's still-blank expression, says, "Taiwanese meatball and Taiwanese beef rolls."

"Why'd you decide to make these?" Linong asks, his eyes trained on the dishes.

"Thought I heard a Taiwanese accent," Zhangjing tells them, just as Zhengting whizzes by and grabs all three plates.

"Showtime?" Zhengting asks, and Zhangjing rolls his eyes in amusement at the light eye shadow, pink blush, and shiny lip gloss on Zhengting's already pretty face.

"Showtime," he agrees.

Zhengting whisks away with a sway of his hips, and Zhangjing hears Linong stifle a laugh while Justin sighs dramatically.

"I made some extra for you," Zhangjing says, directing his words to the Taiwanese boy whose gaze snaps from Zhengting's retreating figure to Zhangjing.

Linong's eyes shine, and Zhangjing beams back at him.

"What about me?" Justin asks from Linong's side, frowning.

"You, mister, have to go and seat our customers," Zhangjing says at the same time that Linong declares loudly and delightedly that there are five meatballs and five rolls in total.

Justin jumps into Zhangjing's arms. "Ge, I love you!"

Zhangjing grunts in answer, but the smile on his face gives him away. "Okay, okay, will you please go and attend to our customers now?"

Justin detaches himself and steps back, standing tall before giving Zhangjing a crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"

"Nongnong, you better save one for me!" Justin calls out as he flies out of the kitchen door.

"And make sure to share with Chengcheng, Linkai, and Zhengting too," Zhangjing murmurs distractedly, gazing at the door as it flaps open and closed, giving him barely any view of the dining area.

He does catch a view of Lin Yanjun's face, as brief as it is, and the sight makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, though he's not sure why.

 

* * *

 

Zhengting floats into the room, a loopy smile on his face.

"Snap out of it, Zhengting," Chengcheng snickers.

"He's so...dreamy," Zhengting sighs as he plops himself onto a stool.

But Zhangjing is barely paying him any mind because he's just caught a glimpse of the outside from the flapping door.

"Uhm Zhengting? Where did Lin Yanjun go?" Zhangjing asks, trying to keep his voice calm.

"What do you mean?" Zhengting asks, twirling around on the stool, craning his neck to peep into the small window on the door. "He's right th—wait."

And then Zhengting is off the stool and out the door. Unconsciously, Zhangjing follows.

"—was right here a minute ago," he hears Zhengting murmur. And then, "Oh, he left some money."

Zhangjing stares at the bills, definitely more than triple the actual price of the meal.

It's Linkai, following behind Zhengting and Zhangjing, who speaks Zhangjing's mind: "He only took a bite out of each dish..."

Zhangjing can almost see Linong elbow Linkai in the rib, even though he has his back turned to the both of them.

"Shut up," Linong hisses aggressively as Linkai tries to bite down a yelp.

"Are we all going to lose our jobs?" This, from Justin, who has joined the small posse.

"Shut up!" This, collectively from Zhengting, Linong, Linkai, Chengcheng.

"You won't lose your jobs," Zhangjing says firmly, spinning around to give what he hopes is a determined and sure stare to each of his staff, his friends.

"You won't lose your jobs," he repeats, softer this time, for himself.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing lets everyone go home early as soon as the restaurant clears out. He waves off Zhengting's worried glance, dismisses Linong's questions of concern, and nearly shoos Linkai, Chengcheng, and Justin out.

There's something eerily comforting about the darkness and silence of an empty restaurant that is usually bustling with vibrant life.

He takes out the last trash bag, a slight chill greeting him as he steps out.

"How'd you do it?"

Zhangjing jumps, his eyes immediately zeroing in on a dark shadow leaning against the brick wall a few feet away.

For some inexplicable reason, he's not exactly surprised to see Lin Yanjun.

"Do what?" Zhangjing asks once his heart rate goes back to normal.

Lin Yanjun pushes himself off the wall and ducks into the light.

God, he's breathtaking, Zhangjing notes for the second time that night.

"The ba wan and the beef roll. How'd you manage to make them exactly the way the little stand across from my elementary school made them?"

Zhangjing giggles nervously. "That's a compliment, right?"

When Lin Yanjun doesn't reply, instead fixing him with the same intense gaze, Zhangjing swallows. "Uhm..."

"I haven't had such authentic tasting food in a while," Lin Yanjun finally says, and there's suddenly a soft look in his eyes, a silent thank you that Zhangjing picks up on as he stares at him.

He notices the thin fabric of Lin Yanjun's shirt and the hands shoved deep into jean pockets. And maybe it's just a habit, or a sign of nervousness, or nothing at all, but Zhangjing takes it as a sign of coldness, so he says, "Would you like to come inside? It's chilly out here."

Zhangjing likes the way Lin Yanjun's eyes immediately light up at the suggestion. He likes the way Lin Yanjun's lips curl up into a shy smile, a hint of a dimple peeking out. He likes the way Lin Yanjun nods, already stepping closer, falling into easy rhythm with Zhangjing.

More than that, Zhangjing likes the way his cheeks feel a little too hot even with the slight breeze. He likes the way his voice comes out a little soft when Lin Yanjun holds the door open for him. He likes the way his lips respond with an automatic smile back when Lin Yanjun smiles at him.

Lin Yanjun ends up staying for more than an hour, the two of them sharing childhood stories and other snippets of their lives.

_"How'd you know I was Taiwanese?"_

_"I'm good with accents, I guess."_

_"Really? I like yours."_

Zhangjing likes the way Lin Yanjun's accent becomes ten times stronger when he gets excited, like when he talks about his favorite childhood candy; the way his eyes glaze over when he describes Taiwan's lively night life

He tells himself that it's a good thing when Lin Yanjun finally looks at his watch and notes the time.

"I should head back, it's getting kind of late."

Zhangjing nods, wondering why he suddenly feels his stomach sink — he decides it's just his dinner getting digested.

Lin Yanjun seems reluctant to go, or maybe that's just Zhangjing's imagination. He's shifting from foot to foot, his eyes fleeting up to meet Zhangjing's. "Will you tell me how you made those dishes?"

Zhangjing thinks the theory of his stomach feeling weird because of digestion can be thrown out because now his heart is feeling weird and he's pretty sure digestion occurs downward. Last he checked, his heart was above his stomach.

Maybe his momentary self-confusion gives him a strange surge of confidence. Or perhaps of extra stupidity. Whatever it is, Zhangjing finds himself blurting out, "Maybe I'll tell you if you come back."

And he's about to kick himself because _wow, that was maximum stupidity_ , but then Lin Yanjun is smiling a brilliant smile and Zhangjing thinks _hey, being stupid isn't all that bad._

"Okay, it's a deal," Lin Yanjun replies, already making his way toward the door.

Zhangjing follows him out, feeling the chill as he lets the door click closed behind him.

Lin Yanjun bounds down the steps onto the empty sidewalk before he turns to face Zhangjing. "Hurry back inside, it's cold."

Zhangjing feels his heart flutter at the words, so he crosses his arms in front of him, perhaps in an attempt to ward off the cold but probably more in an attempt to create a barrier to protect his fragile heart.

"I'll see you soon," is the last thing Lin Yanjun calls up to him before he flashes a smile and disappears into the shadows, leaving Zhangjing to blink in sync with the flickering streetlamp down the street.

 

* * *

 

_Soon_ winds up being the night after, as Justin barges into the kitchen and announces that Lin Yanjun has returned, this time without an advance reservation.

Zhengting audibly squeals, grabbing his notepad and skipping out into the dining area to take the order.

Zhangjing laughs, but there's an increase in his heart rate and a restless curiosity as he continues to prep for the night.

When Zhengting returns a few minutes later with his eyes shining even brighter than they had been when he left, Zhangjing can't help but anticipate Zhengting's description of everything from Lin Yanjun's hairstyle to the level of shine on his leather shoes.

Indeed, Zhengting immediately opens his mouth, but being the excellent employee he is, rattles off the order first.

"Wait, two entrees?" Zhangjing asks a second after, frowning as he leans over to read Zhengting's handwriting on the notepad.

"Yeah, for his friend or date or—"

Zhangjing stops listening to Zhengting then, instead spinning around to look out the window, where he can glimpse a sturdy back facing him, and across from that, Lin Yanjun's laughing face, his head thrown back in a chortle.

Zhangjing vaguely hears Zhengting announce that he's heading back out there to check if they want some more water, or something.

"What are you staring at?" Linong asks, peeking over Zhangjing's shoulder and effectively startling him into attention.

"N—nothing!" He pronounces quickly, turning around. "Let's get to work."

Zhangjing has to measure the amount of soy sauce twice before he gets it right and nearly cuts his finger while slicing up potatoes, but if Linong notices, he chooses not to point it out. Zhangjing is thankful, because he himself has no idea why he's so absentminded today.

Zhengting floats back into the kitchen just as Zhangjing is finishing plating, and he immediately launches into a speech about how hot the other guy is.

Zhangjing snorts. Of course Lin Yanjun would have hot friends. That's just how the world works: hot people befriend other hot people.

Perhaps he slams the plate onto the table with a little more force than necessary, because Zhengting and Linong, the two standing closest to him, both jump at the noise and look over.

"Ready to serve," Zhangjing mutters, pushing the plates toward Zhengting, who accepts them.

"Oh yeah, Lin Yanjun wants to talk to the chef," Zhengting calls, halting right before he gets to the door.

"Tell him the chef is busy." Zhangjing tries to ignore the questioning glances, and tries even harder to ignore the sudden excited thrill in his stomach at Zhengting's words.

And then Zhengting is gone with a shrug of the shoulders, and Zhangjing is left to pretend to wipe at the counter.

He feels more than sees Linkai peering down over his right shoulder and Chengcheng peering down over his left.

"You missed a spot," Linkai says, a lilt in his voice as he nudges Zhangjing and juts his chin toward a perfectly clean edge of the table. Chengcheng snorts.

"Shut up, Linkai," Zhangjing retorts, but nonetheless moves his rag to the spot.

The door suddenly flaps open and Justin barges in loudly. "Lin Yanjun is asking for you."

Zhangjing sighs. "Tell him that I am very busy."

Justin stares at him for a second before his eyes trail down to the tightly clutched rag in his hand. "Right. Very busy."

But Zhangjing is thankful that's the only thing Justin says before he leaves the kitchen.

Zhangjing sighs again when he meets Linong's gaze, where a dawn of understanding and tease lights his eyes. That boy is too smart for his own good.

"Shut up, Nong," Zhangjing warns.

He's helpless as he watches Linong's lips turn up slowly into a smirk. "Didn't even say anything."

"Yeah, let's keep it that way," Zhangjing murmurs, returning his attention to the cleaning cloth and the speckless table.

 

* * *

 

Tonight, Zhangjing wants to be the first one out of the stuffy kitchen. Luck, however, is not on his side as he realizes he has forgotten to prep the meat for tomorrow. By the time he's done, the only light still on is the back pantry. He's about to trudge over to turn it off when he spots Zhengting's bag still perched in the room. It's strange that Zhengting is the last to leave, but Zhangjing is too tired to question it, and simply shrugs his jacket on before he slips out into the night.

"Why wouldn't Zhengting let me pay for the meals?"

Zhangjing yelps as he spins around. Yet again, however, he realizes that he's not particularly surprised to find Lin Yanjun leaning against the wall, in a deja vu of the previous night.

"You paid more than triple the price yesterday," Zhangjing explains as he pauses in his step.

"And you were busy the entire time today?"

Lin Yanjun steps closer, and there's an intensity in his eyes and a frown on his lips that Zhangjing wants to kiss away.

_Wait, what?_

"Yes," Zhangjing squeaks out, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

"That's too bad," Lin Yanjun murmmurs, still stepping closer. The frown is gone, replaced by a slight upward tug of the lips.

"Where's your date?" Zhangjing blurts out in an attempt to stop Lin Yanjun from advancing further and to clear his mind.

At the question, Lin Yanjun's smile seems to get even wider. "Probably somewhere making out with your pretty waiter."

And Zhangjing can barely process the words because Lin Yanjun is stepping closer, closer...

"Wait, Zhengting?" Zhangjing screeches, loud enough for Lin Yanjun to flinch, his brain finally catching up with the words.

And, as if summoned by Zhangjing's voice, the door opens to reveal a giggly Zhengting, his arm behind him to pull someone out with him. And, although Zhangjing had not caught a glimpse of Lin Yanjun's companion that night, he immediately places the beautiful face.

Hot people befriend other hot people, Zhangjing repeats in his head.

Zhengting and his friend come to a halt as they spot Zhangjing and Lin Yanjun. Even in the darkness, it isn't hard to spot Zhengting's flushed face, excited eyes, swollen lips.

"Hey Zhangjing," Zhengting says meekly.

"Hey Zhengting," Zhangjing returns, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

There's a moment of complete silence as the four of them stand around.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ting," Zhangjing finally says, taking pity on Zhengting.

Zhengting immediately perks up, his eyes screaming thank you as he grabs his friend's hand, naturally lacing their fingers together.

"I'll call you later, Yanjun," Lin Yanjun's friend (Zhengting's friend?) calls as he gives Zhangjing a shy smile that Zhangjing returns.

"Not counting on it, Kun," Lin Yanjun laughs, amused. "Have fun you two."

Yanjun. The name sounds different without the last name in front. More familiar, more intimate. I want to call him that, Zhangjing idly thinks.

Again — _wait, what?_

"—so don't worry too much. I promise Xukun is a nice guy. He won't hurt Zhengting." Lin Yanjun pauses. "Zhangjing?"

Zhangjing flushes, wondering if Lin Yanjun has somehow read his mind conversation about first names.

"Huh?" is all he's able to squeak out.

"You must have been really busy tonight to be this out of it," Lin Yanjun laughs, but there's no bite, and Zhangjing even hears a touch of concern.

"Sorry," Zhangjing apologizes, his heart still hammering at the familiarity in which Lin Yanjun just called him. "What were you saying?"

Lin Yanjun shakes his head, a little smile playing on his lips as he looks at Zhangjing. Zhangjing wants to look away under the intensity, but there's nothing intimidating in Lin Yanjun's gaze — in fact, there's something almost mesmerizing about the way those eyes shine with playfulness and sparkle with humor.

"Can I walk you home?" Lin Yanjun asks instead, not breaking eye contact.

"Yes," Zhangjing breathes, and he's not sure why he agrees, or how he's even able to form the word, considering his brain is a jumbled mess.

Lin Yanjun's answering smile is blinding in the darkness, and Zhangjing blinks at the sight of it.

The familiar walk to his apartment feels somehow different with someone next to him, breaking the usual lonely silence with chatter and laughter that, Zhangjing realizes, is natural and comfortable.

Too soon, they reach the complex where Zhangjing lives.

"Well, this is me," Zhangjing announces, hands clasped behind his back as he looks up into a beautiful face. "Thank you for walking me, Lin Yanjun."

"Just Yanjun, please," the other quickly says, grimacing.

Zhangjing's cheeks pink. "Okay. Just Yanjun."

And they stand there for a minute, smiling shyly at each other.

Lin Yanjun clears his throat. "Will you tell me your secret recipe now?"

Zhangjing laughs, the answer slipping out easily this time. "Next time."

The other seems satisfied with the answer. He steps closer, a smile on his lips. Before Zhangjing can react, Lin Yanjun has ducked down to press a fleeting kiss on his cheek. By the time Zhangjing blinks his confusion away, the culprit has already jogged away, his hand raised up in a wave.

"See you tomorrow!"

Zhangjing presses his hand on his flaming hot cheek, a smile blooming. _Yeah, see you tomorrow, Yanjun._

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing is jittery the entire following day.

He's not the only one to notice.

"Hey, you think Zhangjing ge got laid or something?" Linkai wonders.

"I don't know man, he probably hasn't even gone out since the last time he puked on—"

"I can hear you guys," Zhangjing grumbles, shooting a glare toward Linkai and Chengcheng, who only unapologetically shrug.

Before either can press, however, Zhengting is swinging in, his eyes lighting up when he sees Zhangjing.

"Hey Jing, how did it go last night?"

Zhangjing can quite literally feel Linkai and Chengcheng breathe down his neck in interest.

"Went fine. Nothing happened, he just walked me home," Zhangjing murmurs, suddenly embarrassed and shy.

"Who walked you home?" Linkai asked.

"Why did he walk you home?" Chengcheng follows.

"How—"

Before Linong is able to finish his sentence, however, Justin bursts in and Zhangjing already knows what he's going to announce before he opens his mouth.

"Lin Yanjun is back."

Zhangjing bites down on his cheek to keep from smiling.

"He's got a new date tonight."

Just like that, the smile is wiped off.

"A new one? What happened to yesterday's?" Linkai questions.

Zhengting coughs, but doesn't say anything as he ducks his head and busies himself with a rag.

It's Chengcheng who asks what Zhangjing most wants to know. "What's he look like?"

Justin shrugs, already turning around to leave the kitchen, his reporting duty accomplished. "Tall. Fit. Handsome. Rich vibes."

Zhangjing feels his heart sink with every description. Basically everything he wasn't.

But why should he care, right? He clears his throat. "Zhengting, the dishes for table 10 are ready."

"On it, boss." Zhengting sweeps down to receive the finished plates, giving Zhangjing a passing reassuring pat on the back.

Zhangjing looks up to see Linong giving him a sympathetic gaze. He groans. He doesn't want their pity. Or need it. Why should he? He doesn't care.

He catches a glimpse of the tall, fit, handsome, rich friend's back as Zhengting leaves the kitchen, and his stomach knots.

Right. He doesn't care.

 

* * *

 

"Zhengting said you were busy today too."

Zhangjing barely jumps at the now familiar voice.

He turns, studying Lin Yanjun's features in the dark. It's unfair, really, how beautiful he is.

Zhengting is a good friend. "Yeah."

Lin Yanjun steps closer, like he has for the past two days, and Zhangjing feels the same pounding of his heart.

"Why does it feel like you're avoiding me?" Lin Yanjun murmurs, the crease between his eyebrows making his gaze more intense than usual.

"I'm—" Zhangjing's excuse gets stuck in his throat.

Lin Yanjun is looking at him with earnest and concerned eyes, his handsome features somehow even more accentuated by the stone expression.

Zhangjing closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He won't let Lin Yanjun affect him like this.

When he opens his eyes again, Lin Yanjun is closer — so close to Zhangjing that he can see the flutter of his fringe in the light breeze, the slight pout of lips, and more clearly, the sliver of hurt and panic in his telling eyes.

Zhangjing shakes his head with force. "No. No. Lin Yanjun, you can't just...you can't just suddenly appear in my life out of nowhere and act like a knight in shining armor and tell me to call you by your first name and kiss me on the cheek and make my heart do weird things and then...and then show up with different beautiful dates on two consecutive nights and, and—"

His rambling is interrupted by cold hands on his flushed cheeks. His eyes fly open to lock with Lin Yanjun's, which are unwavering and firm.

"Zhangjing," Lin Yanjun breathes, and all thoughts zoom out of Zhangjing's head. "Can I kiss you?"

Zhangjing's head moves on its own, and before he knows it, warm lips are on his, a contrast to the cold fingers that move from cupping his face to bracing the back of his neck. Zhangjing's hands automatically grip Yanjun's waist as his fingers dig deep into the other's hips.

"Yanjun," Zhangjing gasps against soft lips, and somewhere in his buzzing mind, he notes with delight that the name rolls off his tongue easily, naturally.

Yanjun pulls away, and his eyes are cautious, questioning. Zhangjing's heart softens incredibly. To reassure him that the kiss was okay—more than okay—Zhangjing grabs both of Yanjun's hands and places them over his cheeks, his own hands on top of them.

"Why are you so cold?" Zhangjing murmurs, peeking up with a frown.

"You're always making me wait outside for you," Yanjun answers with a pout, and he's so adorable that Zhangjing can't help but laugh and stand on his tip-toes to peck him on the lips.

There's a moment of silence as they stand there like that, Zhangjing's hands and cheeks sandwiching Yanjun's hands to warm them up.

"Ziyi's just a friend," Yanjun finally mutters, soft.

Zhangjing doesn't understand.

"Ziyi. The guy I came with today," Yanjun clarifies.

"Oh." Zhangjing bites his lip. "You have attractive friends."

Yanjun ducks down to kiss him again, nibbling on his lower lip until Zhangjing releases it from his teeth. When Yanjun pulls away, there's a smile on his face.

"Yeah, maybe, but they're just friends. I don't want to be just friends with you," Yanjun states boldly.

Zhangjing flushes. "You can't just say things like that!"

Yanjun is full on laughing at him now. "Why not?"

Zhangjing can't answer, because his tongue is stuck in his throat. Somehow, Lin Yanjun manages to be even more beautiful when he's laughing. There's a carefree youthfulness in the way he throws his head back, putting his whole body into the action. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open wide, his nose scrunched up and identical dimples popping out.

It's captivating.

Lin Yanjun is captivating.

So Zhangjing just shakes his head. And as they make their way out of the dreary alleyway, Yanjun pulls him closer, his arm wrapping around his waist to fall naturally at his hip.

The cool breeze blows on through the night, but Zhangjing presses closer to Yanjun until he almost can't feel it anymore.

 

* * *

 

"Yanjun! You can't be back here. Employees onl—"

Zhangjing's hissed warning is swallowed by a sudden pair of lips on his own. The tongs in his hands clatter onto the table as he's pushed back into a counter. Zhangjing gasps and feels the smirk against his lips before Yanjun's tongue slips in, hot and probing.

"Yanj—!"

This time, Zhangjing's cry of protest is cut off when Yanjun hoists him up onto the counter. And because Zhangjing is weak, his legs automatically open to let Yanjun stand between them, his arms go around Yanjun's neck, and he leans down so as not to break apart the kiss. Yanjun's arms fall loosely around his waist, his fingers tangling with the strings of Zhangjing's apron.

By the time they break apart, they're both out of breath.

"You're distracting the chef," Zhangjing accuses, panting as he rests his forehead against Yanjun's.

Yanjun laughs, and the sound brings a smile to Zhangjing's face. "It's for a good cause."

Zhangjing snorts. "Oh yeah? And what cause is that?"

He looks down to find Yanjun looking at him with a cheeky smile and bright eyes. "My happiness."

Zhangjing pushes Yanjun slightly in the chest, and as the other is regaining his balance (more from laughing and less from Zhangjing's feeble push), hops off the counter. But even before Yanjun is able to fully form a pout on his lips, Zhangjing is grabbing his hand and tugging him further into the kitchen, toward the back pantry.

Zhangjing feels like an excited teenager as he pulls Yanjun into the even more secluded space, the two of them giggling breathlessly, Yanjun's arms coming to wrap around Zhangjing's waist in a back hug as he feathers light kisses against his neck, until...

"Zhengting?"

Two bodies jump away from each other instantaneously.

Time seems to still as the four of them—Zhangjing, Yanjun, Zhengting, and Xukun—pause and stare at each other.

It doesn't take a genius to guess what the other pair were doing in the dark pantry, if Zhengting's nervousness and the way his hand flies up to cover a certain spot on his neck are any indication. And as Zhengting's eyes narrow and move from Zhangjing's face to his waist, where Yanjun's arms are still possessively wrapped around, Zhangjing figures the same conclusion could be made about them too.

"Guess we all had the same idea, huh." Yanjun's the one to break the silence, amusement in his voice, and Zhangjing doesn't hesitate to punch him (lightly) on the arm.

But then Zhengting lets out a giggle, and Xukun's lips twitch even as he rolls his eyes.

Yanjun squeezes Zhangjing's waist, and Zhangjing looks up to sparkling eyes and a sense of home.

Five minutes later finds them out in the open of the kitchen, the four of them leaning comfortably against the middle island table.

"Zhangjing had no idea who you were," Zhengting was telling Yanjun, popping open the cap on the tub of ice cream he must have found somewhere in the freezer.

"Zhengting!" Zhangjing scolds, and he's not sure if he's berating the other boy for eating straight out of the tub or for snitching.

Yanjun motions with one hand for Zhengting to pass him the tub while the other motions to Zhangjing. Without needing to ask for clarification, Zhangjing opens a drawer and forks out a spoon, watching in mild judgement as Zhengting slides the ice cream over and Yanjun digs in.

"Zhengting only cared because you were hot," Zhangjing grumbles, shooting his friend a glare.

"That was before he saw me though," Xukun pipes up, smirking.

Zhengting tries to hit Xukun with a nearby cleaning rag, and Xukun dodges the attack, laughing. Zhangjing watches the two with a smile. He's happy for Zhengting. And, as Yanjun pulls him closer and attempts to feed him a bite of ice cream, Zhangjing realizes he's happy for himself too.

 

* * *

 

The four of them file out of the restaurant late into the night in high spirits.

"Hey, why haven't you written a review of our place yet?" Zhengting suddenly questions, peering at Yanjun curiously as he latches onto Xukun's arm.

Warmth fills Zhangjing's heart when he hears Zhengting refer to their restaurant as _our place_. He turns to the boy next to him with a smile, also curious.

It's Xukun who speaks up though, snorting loudly. "Oh it's written. It's just unpublishable."

Zhangjing and Zhengting both turn to Xukun in surprise, wondering what he means.

"Cai Xukun, I swear—"

Yanjun's sharp warning is interrupted by Xukun's laughter. "The homey restaurant is somehow familiar and cozy from the get-go," Xukun recites in a bad impression of Yanjun's voice. "And this is only accentuated by the appearance of the cute chef—"

"Cai Xukun, if you don't shut up right now, I'm going to—" Yanjun lunges forward, but Xukun dances just out of his grasp.

"The ba wan is delicious from the first bite," Xukun continues, unbothered. "It makes me want to bite into the lips of—"

"Cai Xukun!" Yanjun roars, and Zhangjing barely has time to step out of the way before a shadow zips past him.

But Zhengting is faster, and he grabs Xukun's hand and escapes, the two of them hooting and waving as they run away.

When Zhangjing catches up to where Yanjun has skidded to a stop, he sees the other with his head down, his ears tinged bright red.

"So...cute chef huh," Zhangjing teases, his heart expanding and doing weird acrobatics in his chest.

"Shut up," Yanjun grumbles, lifting up his head slightly to chance a glance at Zhangjing.

Zhangjing laughs, the sound bubbling out of him delightedly and unabashedly. He pulls Yanjun closer with a tug on his shirt, and when Yanjun comes stumbling into his arms, swings them around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Yanjun's arms automatically wind around Zhangjing's middle as he kisses back.

Zhangjing smiles. Vanilla ice cream.

"What?" Yanjun breathes against his lips, the sound sending tingles down his spine.

"Nothing," Zhangjing replies, booping their noses together. "Just didn't peg you as a biter."

Yanjun pinches him harshly on the side, but even the slight pain doesn't deter Zhangjing's loud laugh. Yanjun takes advantage of his distracted state to lean down and kiss him again, this time deliberately nibbling on Zhangjing's lower lip and drawing it out until Zhangjing yelps. He quickly soothes it with a proper kiss, swiping his tongue slowly along it and effectively making Zhangjing shiver with the sensation.

"Better?" Yanjun asks, gazing down at Zhangjing with an affectionate and warm look that Zhangjing basks under as he nods.

Later, as they're walking back to Zhangjing's apartment hand in hand, Zhangjing suddenly tugs on Yanjun's arm. "Hey, will I ever read that full review?"

Yanjun snorts, giving him a side look. "Will you ever tell me how you made that ba wan and beef roll?"

Zhangjing pretends to think about it. "Maybe if you come back again."

Yanjun laughs, bright and clear, and Zhangjing savors the sound. "I'll always come back."

Yanjun says the words so easily and with so much conviction that Zhangjing doesn't doubt them. He smiles and laces their fingers together into a tighter fit as they walk on in the dark night.

**Author's Note:**

> just imagine zhangjing in a chef's hat and apron :(( 
> 
> holler at me on twitter [@y4njun](https://twitter.com/y4njun)


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